Silence
by ArienUdomiel
Summary: A continuation of Wavering from Ben's POV. COMPLETE.


**Title:** Silence

**By:** Arien

**Warnings:** Character Death

* * *

**_Well has it been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_**

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* * *

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I could hear the words of the minister as they drifted over the sounds of Lake Tahoe. Like Rachel crying in the wilderness, I wouldn't be comforted. I stood with Adam among our friends as we lay to rest my youngest son. I had lived this moment in countless nightmares but, now, there was nothing to wake me.

My heart had shattered when I had seen Adam's face in Paul's office. The stark grief in his eyes still caused my heart to clench in empathy for what he had endured alone. I would have spared him the burden of telling me, if it were possible.

I closed my eyes against the sight of Joe's coffin being lowered into the ground. Nothing could have prepared me for the day I had to bury one of my sons. Sorrow weighed on me like a sodden cloak. Adam placed his arm around my shoulders – I wasn't sure if I was getting support or giving it.

"We commend to Almighty God Joseph Cartwright, and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace. Amen."

I could hear the sounds of our friends leaving the small clearing where I had buried Joe's mother – so many years before. Now it would be the resting place of our son, as well. Tears welled behind my closed eyes, and I was powerless to stop them from falling. I could barely breathe past the anguish lodged in my throat. No man should out live a child.

When I opened my eyes, Adam and I were alone. His hand tightened on my shoulder. Looking at my oldest, I wanted to do nothing more than comfort him as I had when he was a young boy. His ability to digest the incomprehensible failed him this time by simply existing. His face was set in stone but his eyes – his eyes were the mirror to his soul. I could read the heartache and disbelief which lived there now.

I laid my hand over his and whispered, "Let's go home."

I allowed myself to be ledback to our surrey. As we pulled away from what had become my family's cemetery, I turned to look back. Two of my ranch hands were filling the grave. Iknew part of my heart was being buried as well. _'Oh, Joseph – would to God that I had died for you.'_

The short ride back to the house passed in oppressive silence. Adam stared ahead, making no other movement than to guide the horses and clench his jaw. I didn't have the words to comfort him – not for this.

As I watched the passing scenery, I could see again the small baby being placed in my arms. Marie and I had been so proud to have a child of our own. I had wanted for him nothing more than happiness and long life. How quickly time slips away – the years passed and I watched as all of my sons turned into fine young men.

I was grateful when the surrey pulled to a stop in the front yard. Stepping from the rig, I moved as if I had aged thirty years overnight. I watched as Adam went to stable the horses. He clung to his solitude as if it was the only certainty he had left. This time – this time I couldn't let him to have the distance he craved.

"Adam," I called to him, moving to his side. He stopped just inside the barn doors, head bowed. I let my hand rest on his shoulder and could feel the muscles bunching. "Son, look at me."

For a moment, I didn't think he would do as I had asked. He turned to face me, and the unmasked misery on his face caused me to wish I could hold him as I would Joe. I knew he would refuse such a gesture. I tightened my hold on his shoulder.

"Adam, I-I want to thank you…" I was interrupted by his harsh sigh.

"Thank me for what? Do you know what I did?" A single tear fell from his eye.

"Yes, yes I know exactly what you did. You brought your brothers home."

The horses nickered behind us. Adam pulled away from me, leading the animals into the barn. I didn't say anything else to him, merely watched as he went about stabling the team. His normally smooth actions were marred by long pauses of inactivity.

I turned from the doorway. I had intruded too much and didn't want him to know I'd lingered there. I headed across the yard and into the house to change my clothes before going into Virginia City—to bring the last of my sons home.

At the top of the stairs, I paused outside of Joe's room before entering. The room looked exactly as my youngest had left it a week earlier: a dime novel was lying opened on the bedside table; clothes had been discarded in one chair; and the bed had been left unmade. I remembered telling Joe he would have to clean this mess when he got home since Hop Sing had gone out of town to visit his innumerable cousins in San Francisco.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, my heart skipped a beat at the knowledge Joe wouldn't be coming home. I pulled at the pillow next to me, turning it over in my hands before pressing it to my face. I inhaled the familiar scent of Joe's cologne and bitterness welled from my soul.

" Pa."

A hesitant voice called to me and, for a moment, I could pretend it was Joe. I lifted my head and opened my eyes. Adam was crouched in front of me, his hand resting on my knee.

"Pa, I've got the wagon hitched up. We can go into town for Hoss as soon as you're ready."

Nodding at him, I stood and placed the pillow back where I'd found it. "Thank you, son. Just give me a minute."

As I passed through the door, a soft cough caused me to glance behind me. Adam was sitting on the edge of the bed, absently flipping through Joe's dime novel. Despite his insistence the books weren't "true literature", I had a feeling there was about to be a new addition to Adam's collection.

* * *

I looked down at Hoss, his face still flushed with fever. He hadn't been awake enough for us to tell him about Joe. At times, he seemed to be reliving whatever had happened out at the Bynum's place, periodically calling out for his brother. I dreaded the time when I would have to tell him.

I was grateful to be home again. The trip into town had been one of the hardest of my life. When we pulled to a stop in front of Paul's office, I had lowered my head against the sympathetic looks from passersby. I didn't want to hear more empty platitudes. I just needed to be left alone.

The bullet and resulting infection had been cut away, and Hoss had been kept overnight because his fever had gotten so high. Paul had sounded confident my middle son would be fine after a few weeks' rest.

I wasn't so sure any of us would ever be alright. Reaching out beside me, I squeezed the excess water from the cold cloth and replaced the one on my middle son's forehead. There was a certain amount of comfort in the action. At least I was able to help in some small way.

"Joe, don't!" Hoss's mutterings began again, tearing at my heart. His breathing was labored, and his hands clutched at the sheets.

Leaning forward, I used another damp cloth to bathe his face. "You need to calm down, son. Everything's been taken care of, I promise."

I dropped the rag back in the basin of water and sat back after Hoss was once more settled once more. The sun had set hours ago and my mind drifted to a little patch of land out near the lake.

A hand on my shoulder woke me out of a fitful dream: Joseph and Hoss stood before me, calling to me for help that I couldn't give them. I sat up so quickly I almost fell out of the chair.

Settling back, I looked up into Adam's concerned face. I took the coffee he held out to me. I didn't really want it but knew it was important for my oldest to feel like he was helping.

"How is he?"

The quiet words caused me to look at Hoss. I reached out a hand and found him much cooler to the touch. The deep, regular breathing signaled a truly healing sleep. "I think he's going to be fine, just like the doctor said."

Glancing up, I saw a faint smile on Adam's face.

"Why don't I stay with him while you go get something to eat? I'll change his dressing while you're gone."

"Just wait till I get back to do that. It'll be easier for two of us to change them," I said, placing the cup on the bedside table when a faint voice interrupted us.

"Pa?"

Hoss's voice was so much weaker than what I was used to hearing. I stood and leaned over the bed. I could feel Adam crowding in behind me.

"Hoss, do you need anything? Something for the pain?" I asked, praying he'd say "yes". God help me, I wanted nothing more than have him fall back into a drugged slumber and allow me a reprieve from answering the question in his eyes. I wasn't surprised, though, when he shook his head.

"Joe…how's Joe, Pa? He's hurt awful bad," Hoss said on a sigh. "I told him everything'd be alright when Adam got there."

I felt my oldest son's body stiffen at that comment, but he said nothing. I heard the scuffing of boots on the floor. Looking up, I saw Adam had moved to the other side of the bed and was sitting on the edge. I thought for a moment to have Adam leave so I could talk to Hoss. As quickly as it came, I discarded that idea. We were a family, and families dealt with things together. We'd need each other to get through this.

"Son, I don't – I don't know how to say this," I started, reaching out a hand to grasp at the hand lying on top of the covers. I could barely swallow past the lump that had formed in my throat. "Joe didn't…he…he passed away."

Hoss seemed to fold into himself at that statement. His eyes closed and tears began to fall down his cheeks. I gathered him to me, wanting to comfort him and knowing there was damn little I could actually do. The weak sobs caused my eyes to sting, and I reached out for Adam. Grasping at the dark clad arm, I held on to the two remaining people who meant more to me than life itself. I didn't care if Adam wanted to be left alone or not – I needed the simple touch to reassure myself they were still with me.

* * *

"Ben, I wish you'd waited before telling him," Paul said, two days later. He descended the stairs ahead of me and walked over to the sideboard. "It's only going to slow down the healing process."

I didn't say anything for a moment. "I couldn't lie to him. Not about that. He'd forgive me anything but lying about Joe."

Paul said nothing as he pulled on his coat and hat. He opened the door and headed out. "Just send for me if you need anything. Remember to change the bandages every three hours or so,and clean the wound with alcohol. I left sleeping powders and something for pain should he need it."

I nodded in understanding. I'd been down this road too many times over the years with each of my sons.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm sorrier than I can say about everything." He climbed into the buggy and hesitated for a moment. He seemed about to say something more but, apparently, thought better of it. With a snap of the reins, he was on his way back to town.

I stood in the yard for a while, watching Cochise moving about restlessly in the corral. I walked over to the fence, and the horse approached me. Running my hand up and down the muzzle, the motion was oddly soothing. "You miss him, too, don't you?"

I felt ridiculous talking to the animal, but it seemed right, somehow. Cochise bobbed his head, looking for all the world like he was agreeing with me.

"I do, too," I said, looking around to see if anyone else was around. "Sometimes it's hard to remember he's not coming home. I stopped outside his bedroom door this morning to get him up for the day. I keep expecting him to come walking through that door, grinning at me for a joke well played. Or I will finally wake up from this as if it's a nightmare."

I closed my eyes and leaned against Cochise's neck. "But it's not a dream, and I wake in vain. Nothing I do will bring him back, and it's killing me. God gave him to me for safe keeping, and I failed."

* * *

The weeks passed in slow trickles. Hoss's recovery was every bit as slow as Paul had predicted. I found myself questioning the wisdom of telling him so soon, but it was past. There was nothing I could do to change it.

Roy had made an appearance shortly after Hoss became stronger, wanting to find out what had happened for one of his damned reports. As if the experience could be summed up in a few concise sentences.

In halting words, Hoss finally told us what had gone on in those few hours at the Bynum's. He said that, when he and Joe had arrived, there were already armed men trying to rob the young couple. It made me sick to think there were people who preyed on the fringe ranches simply because they were too far from help.

"When they found out Vivian and Matthew didn't have nothing worth stealing, they started in on us. They weren't none too happy to find out we didn't have anything either. That's when they shot Vivian and Matthew. We knew they was dead before they hit the floor."

Hoss had stopped for a long while, gathering his reserves to continue. I glanced around the room and saw the same anger I felt reflected in the eyes of Adam, Roy, and Paul.

"I don't know what Joe thought he was going to do, but he was determined to try something. You know how he is…was…." The large hands had twisted in the bedclothes. "He made a jump for the leader but was shot before he moved a single step. I'd forgotten about the man standing behind us, that's why Joe was shot in the back like that. When-when I went to help Joe, the leader shot me."

I had shut my eyes, trying not to picture what had gone on but failing miserably as Hoss continued.

"I remember them laughing as they tore the place up, looking for anything to steal. I guess they figured we was all lying about not having nothing to steal. When they couldn't find anything, that's when they shot Vivian again – just for spite. I guess that's when they heard Adam coming closer or something because they lit out of there mighty quick, afterwards," Hoss said, looking down for a long moment before meeting my eyes. "I kept telling Joe that we'd be alright once Adam got us home. I don't remember much else after that. I know Adam'd gotten there and was helping us, just like I'd said."

None of us uttered a word for the longest time. Three deaths for nothing more than spite, the knowledge that Hoss had been shot for simply trying to help caused a fury in me like nothing I'd ever felt before.

Paul must have seen something on Hoss's face because he asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Only when I breathe, Doc, only when I breathe." Hoss answered, not looking at anyone.

Paul hurried to my son's side, quick to offer medicine for the hurt. Only Adam and I seemed to know it wasn't his shoulder Hoss was talking about, and there was no amount of medicine that could help that kind of pain.

* * *

Adam threw himself into the running of the ranch once we'd been sure Hoss would heal. Following his oldest brother's example, Hoss returned to work with a fervor I could understand – if you worked until you were exhausted, there was less of a chance to dream. Less of a chance to remember.

There were days I was sure I'd lost all my sons. I might have buried Joseph, but I was living with shadows of Adam and Hoss. They passed through the house, never lingering to talk. Each one eager to be anywhere other than where the memories of Joe walked.

I sat at the head of the table, watching as Hoss and Adam pushed the food around their plates. I cleared my throat before speaking.

"So, Adam, did you check on the cattle in the high grounds?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"They're fine, Pa. Putting on a lot of weight. I'm sure they'll bring in a nice sum of money when we take them to San Francisco."

I suppose that was the end of his report because he went right back to shoving the potatoes around in a mindless circle. It was disconcerting to see my eldest to seem at such loose ends. He was normally such a decisive person and not given to absentminded behavior.

I looked over at Hoss. He seemed frozen in place – his head was propped up on his left hand, and he simply stared ahead at something only he could see.

"How's the timber cutting?"

"Hm? What was that, Pa?"

"I asked how the timber cutting was coming along."

"Oh, fine. We'll have the ridge cleared by the end of next week. Just like you wanted."

"Good, glad to hear it. The, uh, headstone came into today. The stonemason did a wonderful job. I though we might all go out together and visit your brother."

Neither of my sons acknowledged I had said a word. Someone once told me that quiet could be louder than noise, but I hadn't believed it until now. The silence that enveloped dining room was almost deafening. Adam and Hoss gave up any pretense of eating and left, each heading off in different directions.

As had become my habit after dinner, I walked outside to the corral and leaned against the rails, watching the pinto approach me. The animal seemed restless nowadays. I made sure one of the ranch hands exercised Joe's horse, but I suppose that was a poor substitute to Cochise. I pulled out my pocketknife and began to cut off sections of an apple I'd brought with me.

"I've come to a realization, Cooch." I held my palm flat as the horse nibbled the treat from my hand. "It's not fair for you to be cooped up in this corral. Joe'd be the first one to tell me that."

After a few minutes of silence and the apple having been eaten, I looked at the beautiful horse. I could remember the day I'd traded for him. Joe'd wanted a pinto for so long. I'd never seen him so happy as when I'd given him Cochise. Recalling that day only made what I had to do that much harder.

I ran my hand down the silky mane, trying to remain calm. Walking to the front of the corral, I opened the gate. I led Cochise out and, shutting the gate, I let my hands brush down the animal's back. Stepping back, I slapped the animal on the rump.

The horse looked startled for a moment, and I slapped his rump a bit harder and yelled. That was all the encouragement Cochise needed to run free. I'd make sure the ranch hands knew to keep an eye out for the horse, but I knew it wasn't right to keep him trapped in the corral just because I couldn't lose another part of Joe. It hurt, but it was the right decision.

"Why?"

The harshly spoken question from Hoss startled me. I turned and saw both of my sons standing behind me, demanding an answer, and I gave the only one I had as headed back into the house.

"Because it's what Joe wants."

* * *

After the incident with Cochise, we all seemed to tread lightly with each other – more strangers than family. We were coolly polite. I don't think either Adam or Hoss truly forgave me for letting Joe's horse go. I think they saw it as the final admittance that Joe really was gone from our lives.

Sitting at breakfast with Hoss and Adam a week later, I came to a conclusion. I'd let this go on too long. I was going to have to fight, tooth and nail, to keep my family together. I cleared my throat to get their attention and, once I had it, I made my announcement.

"Boys, I think it's high time we went to visit Joe together, as a family." I could see the protests already in each pair of eyes staring back at me, but I didn't care. "The horses are ready, so we'll leave as soon as we're done here."

"Pa, I'vegot to get to the bank and—" Adam began, but I cut him off in mid-sentence.

"We're going. That bank will be there tomorrow. I'm not so sure about this family," I said, looking each of them. "I've already lost Joseph, I'm not about to lose the two of you as well."

Hoss never said a word, but I could see the unhappiness on his face. I stood up, moving towards where my gun belt and hat were kept. I didn't look back to know Hoss and Adam had followed me.

The ride out to the lake was a quiet one. I tried to start up a conversation but gave up after a couple of non-committal noises from the directions of the broad backs in front of me.

The sounds of water lapping at the shore reached my ears before the little glade came into view. Dismounting, I tied off Buck's lead and moved over to the headstones. I brushed my fingers against Marie's name before kneeling next to Joe's and running my fingers across the freshly chiseled words.

_Joseph F. Cartwright_

_Born 1842 – Died 1862_

_Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal._

"See, Joe, I told you I'd get those mule-headed brothers of yours out here the next time I came." A phantom hand seemed to brush across my cheek as I pulled a few stray weeds away from the marker. I moved to sit on the large bench I'd had made. I figured that, if I was going to be spending a lot of time out here, I might as well be comfortable while I talked to the dead.

The soft sounds of shuffling feet on dirt reached my ears, and I felt Adam and Hoss each take a seat next to me. My heart broke when I realized this was the first time my family had been together for weeks.

My voice sounded weak, even to my ears, when I started talking. "Do either of you remember that talk we had, years ago, about what it means to be a family?"

"You mean the one where you slipped that metal rod into the kindling?" Adam asked, staring ahead at the gravestones.

I smiled, recalling the look of consternation on each of my sons' faces.

"Do you also recall that I said a family that stands together can deal with anything?" I looked down at my clenched hands, praying I could find the words I needed to reach Adam and Hoss. "We've stopped being a family. Each of us had gone off on his own to grieve and that's not how I raised you."

I sat in silence, listening to the sounds of nature around me.

"I'd feel better if there was someone to hold accountable," Adam said, clearing his throat. "It's not right that gang will get away with murdering my brother."

Hoss spoke up a moment later. "I keep thinking 'what if'. What if we'd gotten a later start? What if we'd never left you there in Yerington? We'd be grievin' for Matthew and Vivian but, at least, Joe'd still be with us."

"Hoss, it's only natural to think about things like that. But we should be able to talk about it rather than letting it fester." I let my hand rest on the white clad shoulder. "I've been scared – scared I'd lose you and Adam. How do I know the next time I send you off on business that something like this won't happen? I don't think I'd survive it."

I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of cool water and pine. The shoulder under my hand began to relax a bit. There would be days when the grief would overwhelm each of us, I wasn't foolish enough to think this had been an easy fix, but it was a start. That's all I really wanted, a way to begin healing. As I sat there surrounded by my family, I could almost hear Joe's voice on the wind, whispering "Thanks, Pa."


End file.
